In 2018, the fight for social justice reached a critical
milestone when an American judge sentenced child rapist and abuser Larry Nassar
to 175 years in prison for the sexual abuse of hundreds of girls and young
women.
اضافة اعلان
Nassar’s job as the Olympic gymnastics team doctor involved
looking after scores of young female athletes while providing them with
orthopedic care. In a flagrant violation of medical ethics and his sacred role
as a caretaker, he betrayed what was entrusted to him for 18 long years as he
took advantage of innocent young women. Like in the case of our society, this
happened with the help of other adults in his network, who were willing to
cover up for him.
(Photo: Envato Elements)
Being a “caregiver” was probably the reason for the woman
judge’s decision to extend his sentence from a minimum of 40 years (which is a
de facto life sentence) to 175 years, knowing quite well that no one lives that
long. Her symbolic gesture aimed to extend empathy and compassion to 160 of his
victims who came to court to share their gruelling experiences of humiliation
amidst heart-wrenching tears, recounting the pain they had endured at the hands
of their trusted physician.
To make an example of sexual predators who target
unsuspecting children with their dark, sick and abusive actions, the only way
is to go big or go home. Ruining the lives of children and scarring them
forever is a crime that warrants the most stringent punitive measures,
especially that the impact of sexual abuse on youngsters is everlasting. No one
heals from being assaulted and violated, not in their childhood and not at
other ages.
Here, in Jordan, we are light years away from taking
decisive measures against perpetrators of sexual abuse targeting young girls
and boys, because “cover up” is the name of the game in our society.
When it comes to unreported stories of abuse, people in
Jordan are mostly two kinds: those who initiate and repeat the abuse against
children (and women) and get away with it, and those who turn a blind eye
toward the actions of abusive family members, relatives and coworkers – to
“protect the fabric of the society”. The latter are essentially accomplices and
accessories to crime who do not get to face the consequences of their cowardly
silence either.
On a more positive note, we are closer than ever to ending
this hypocrisy. Several Jordanian influencers are making their voices heard
about the need to take immediate action to protect children from decades of
inaction and hushed-up abuse.
In an opinion piece that appeared in Jordan News last month,
psychology Professor Musa Shteiwi spoke about a recent study by UNICEF and the
National Council for Family Affairs with the harrowing revelation that
“violence against children is widespread and alarming”. A staggering 74.6
percent of children experience at least one form of physical violence, let
alone other types of abuse. That is around three quarters of tomorrow’s adult
lawmakers, voters, ministers, teachers, artists, doctors, and general
population.
Shteiwi called for a “national strategy to combat violence
against children” especially that “violence, of all types, against children has
a very damaging and lasting effect on their well-being and their future,
deprives them of their basic human rights and has negative ramification for the
society at large”.
This Monday, a chilling human-interest story appeared in
Jordan News with the assertive headline “Child sexual abuse in Jordan”. In a
society of taboos, that is not your usual headline. The article hit the nail on
the head with its accurate characterization of the distorted social notions
that enable sexual abuse.
In her piece, the writer Jude Hashem says: “Reporting sexual
abuse remains minimal because we are still under the absurd notion that the
sexual assault of girls brings dishonor to her family, and the sexual assault
of boys impugns their masculinity.”
To concur, protecting family reputation at the expense of
the dignity and physical, mental and spiritual sanctity of its members is a
crime in itself. Putting “image” before the wellbeing of children is the height
of cruelty and hypocrisy, especially in a society that often feigns “piety”.
People do not own each other, and families are not unspoken
social contracts of eternal, unchecked “ownership”. A man does not own his
wife, and parents surely do not own their children or their children’s fate,
dignity or freedom to choose. In monotheistic religions, humans bow their heads
only to God, not to fellow humans, even when they are family.
The idea that the upper echelons of a family own the people
under their roof (a module replicated across other sectors, such as government,
education and health) is probably another reason why society is slow at taking
brave, decisive action to protect its most vulnerable. This, coupled with a
worrying lack of decisive and preventive laws that hold predators and
perpetrators of sexual abuse accountable, has ruined the lives of many children
(and therefore future adults), causing them deep damage and a painful silence
that they are destined to take to their grave.
Jordan needs to start holding the sexual predators in our
society to account, regardless of their social status, reputation, or ability
to hide their crimes against childhood behind a façade of popularity, family
name, and, sometimes, a misleading appearance of religious devoutness.
Those criminals are among us, free to repeat their abuses
against vulnerable children simply because our laws and law enforcement bodies
are giving them a free pass to continue their atrocities.
While Jordan is taking its time in uprooting the problem of
domestic violence against women and children, generations of abused Jordanians
have kept silent about sexual harassment, verbal and physical abuse, and
gaslighting by the people closest to them.
Moving at a snail’s pace to achieve social justice for the
hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of Jordanian children across multiple
generations is no longer an option for a country that seeks reforms.
Whereas the Millennials, Generation X, and the Baby Boomers
before them (who are now in their late fifties to late seventies) had zero
access to legal or emotional support if they experienced abuse during their
childhood, we still have Generation Z to save.
Abused Jordanian children are entitled to their cathartic
“Larry Nassar moment”. They have the right to be heard and for their pain to be
acknowledged and healed. To say it bluntly, a society that is incapable of
empathy towards its own children is, slowly but surely, headed toward the
abyss.
Ruba Saqr has reported on the environment, worked in the
public sector as a communications officer, and served as managing editor of a
business magazine, spokesperson for a humanitarian INGO, and as head of a PR
agency.
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